


Clean Shirt, New Shoes

by sirsparklepants (pixieface)



Series: looking sharp, looking for love [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Genji Shimada, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Canon-Typical Violence, Class Differences, Cyborg Anatomy, Face-Fucking, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fashion & Couture, Luxury, M/M, Set during Uprising, Undercover, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-04 10:15:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10988862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixieface/pseuds/sirsparklepants
Summary: While Overwatch strikes at Null Sector, Jesse McCree is still in London. He has some backup, but officially, they can't be seen. So Genji shows McCree how the other half lives - and how they evade the police. Dressing them both up in expensive clothes is just a bonus.





	Clean Shirt, New Shoes

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from ZZ Top. 
> 
> This fic has a [polyvore](http://www.polyvore.com/clean_shirt_new_shoes/set?id=220499937) (Genji on the left, McCree on the right) and a [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/sirsparklepants/playlist/73xgAboZ2IcGdevDAaIoVQ) (completely not serious).

When the Overwatch transport had taken off for London, Reyes made sure that there was one unscheduled body on it. Overwatch could do the flashy, public part of the mission - that’s what they were for. Blackwatch was for cleanup - the parts of the mission that worked best when there was a shiny blue distraction blowing holes in buildings to take up public attention. And for this particular cleanup, Reyes thought McCree could use a partner.

McCree, armed with only a handgun and flashbangs against the remnants of Null Sector, was grateful for the consideration. Just because he could’ve handled it himself didn’t mean he was particularly inclined to. And it was a pleasure to watch Genji when he got going, moving in a way McCree doubted any fully human body could move. Genji jumped onto purple-armored troopers, wedging his blade and his metal fingers into the weaker joints of their shoulders and hips. He sprung away to sweep a low kick towards their digitigrade feet, overbalancing one into another and taking off both their heads. McCree could only watch the whirlwind and keep the quick small slicers off his back.

Not that he was having much of a chance to watch him right now. Null Sector was concentrating on the Overwatch squad, so there were no Bastions or OR-14s or explosive surprises waiting for the Blackwatch agents back at the omnics’ London base, which he was thankful for. They’d left enough of the little guys, though, that McCree almost regretted the fact that he used a revolver rather than something with a higher capacity.

Almost. He grunted as a slicer darted in a little too close for comfort, snagging his clothes at the lower back as he tried to avoid it. He turned, flipping his gun so the spur on the handle was facing the omnic and whacking the bot a good one. It crumpled, plating noticeably dented. He grinned. Revolver had a little more heft to it, especially with the modifications he’d made. Useful in situations like this, though it probably only worked because of how small the slicers were.

He looked up, only to see Genji had made his way further into the warehouse Null Sector was holed up in while he was occupied. McCree cursed and put three bullets into the chassis of a trooper trying to sneak into the space between them before he rolled forward into the dubious cover of some crates. He was almost out of speedloaders. They’d better make this fast.

Genji looked like he’d have no problem with that. The simple black shirt and pants he wore to disguise the shine of his cybernetics were looking a bit worse for wear - looked like he’d just barely managed to deflect a few bullets so they were grazes instead of direct shots. There was a slice of bare skin visible on his flesh arm, and a trickle of blood smeared on it. McCree was too far away to see if it was serious, but it looked like his friend was still moving okay.

McCree risked a look out to assess the situation. He’d have to move soon; he wouldn’t stay unnoticed here for long. Then he cursed. He could just make out the bulkier armored silhouette of an Eradicator, though he couldn’t hear its lumbering tread over the gunfire in the room. Looked like Null Sector left one heavy hitter, after all. He whistled four notes - Blackwatch code for ‘group up’, seeing as they worked in the dark too often to rely on hand signals alone, and radios were uncertain with omnics - and waited for Genji to come to him.

“They left one Eradicator here,” he murmured, as soon as Genji had settled down beside him. “Think that’s gonna take both of us to take out.”

Genji nodded once, sharply. “I agree. Any ideas?”

“How bad’s that shoulder wound?” McCree asked.

“Not bad - just a scrape,” Genji said. “How is the cut on your back?”

“Can’t even feel it,” McCree said honestly. Slicer must have gotten closer than he’d thought, to be able to get through the layer of kevlar he wore on stealth missions. “I can take out those last three troopers, give you some space. If you rush in and get the big guy’s attention, it’ll give me time to flank it and set up a good shot.”

McCree could just barely see the line of Genji’s smirk above his metal jaw. “I can be very distracting,” he said.

McCree smirked back. “I believe that,” he said. “Go for it as soon as I start shootin’.” He took another look over the top of the crates. The last troopers had spread out looking for them - all to the good. They weren’t exactly set up to withstand a frontal assault at the moment. He took a deep breath in, lining up the first target, and fired on the exhale.

He felt the air brush by him as Genji moved, but all his attention was concentrated on the troopers. The one he’d shot was down for the count, but the other two were suddenly paying real close attention to him. He threw a flashbang and dashed for another set of crates on the other side of the warehouse while they were stunned.

Must have been from the parts Null Sector’d needed to modify themselves, he thought, but whatever they were from, he was grateful for it. Infiltration, or distraction, for that matter, could go wrong fast without a tank to duck behind. As it was, the trooper’s bullets were a little too slow to catch anything more than the edge of his boot as he slipped into the shadows. 

Wouldn’t be able to get a headshot on these two, now that they knew where he was. He moved a little closer to the far edge of his makeshift cover to get a look at the situation. The troopers had grouped up - that was good for him. He still had five bullets left in the chamber, and he fired all of them in quick succession as he ducked around the edge, fanning the hammer and aiming straight for center mass. That was enough to drop them.

Genji, meanwhile, looked to be holding his own against the Eradicator, but he was having to move quick to do it, and his deflections didn’t seem to be doing much against its shield and the heavier armor it wore. McCree reloaded quickly, rolling again to stay low and out of its vision as he positioned himself behind it. Two bullets into its shield arm did the trick; the shields dropped, and Genji closed quickly, jumping in to take its head off with his sword.

McCree whistled again, but this time the sound was pure admiration. “That’s a nice move,” he said.

Genji grinned at him, slightly vicious, as he moved back from the sparking mass of the Eradicator. “All of my moves are good,” he said. 

“Can’t disagree with you, from what I’ve seen,” McCree said. “You saw more of this place than me - they left anything that looked like plans?”

Genji shook his head, to McCree’s disappointment. “They’re omnics - you know as well as I that they probably communicated through encrypted networks.”

“Yeah, I know,” McCree sighed. “You can hope for a stupid human, but hopin’ for a stupid omnic’s just askin’ for trouble. Had to ask, though.”

“I will take a second look while you report to Commander Reyes,” Genji said, looking around the space littered with omnic parts. “Perhaps they did slip up.”

McCree doubted it, but he did need to call for pickup. Even if Overwatch and their transport had stuck around, there was going to be plenty of attention on them and their heroics. Attention Blackwatch really didn’t need right now, seeing as they were supposed to be suspended. He turned his communicator back on - anything that had a signal had to be off for fighting omnics - and waited to be connected.

Genji had finished prowling the warehouse by the time McCree’s call wrapped up, and he looked about as pleased to come up with nothing as McCree was. He shook his head, scowling, when McCree met his eyes. 

“Got bad news, I’m afraid,” McCree said. “The UN and the government here ain’t too pleased with Overwatch saving their bacon, and they’ve got the London cops all fired up. They don’t wanna arrest Overwatch, of course, seein’ as a lot of people are alive because of them, but they need a scapegoat, and seems someone tipped them off that we’re here.”

Genji shrugged. “We know how to stay out of sight,” he said. “We can wait here until the transport lands. Null Sector picked this place because no one knew about it.”

“Well, that’s the thing,” McCree said. “Won’t be a transport for a few days. Gonna have to hole up in London til things calm down, then head for France. We’ll be picked up at the Channel.”

Genji’s expression didn’t change. “That’s unfortunate,” he said. “Have we been given a budget for supplies?” 

McCree nodded. Every Blackwatch agent kept an innocuous card with them that could be loaded with funds remotely from anywhere - much less suspicious than cash in this day and age, and very hard to trace. Most importantly, they had a little chip that confused the standard retinal security so nothing got stored. Convenient for when things went tits up and they had to pay that extra bribe or stay a few more days, like now. “Won’t know how much til I check it, but enough to stay somewhere a little nicer than the usual - Reyes said a lot of the damage was in the poorer areas, so it’s best if we stayed out.” He frowned. “Good thing, too - my back’s all cut up and your arm’s still bleedin’. We’re gonna have to get some new clothes. Can’t walk down the street like this, we’ll be noticed.”

Genji looked down at his arm, as if he hadn’t noticed. “Not just that,” he said, and indicated a large rip in the thigh of his pants, through which the shine of his cybernetic armor could clearly be seen. “I am one of the few people to have such… extensive repairs. We could be identified from that.” 

McCree nodded - by its very nature, Blackwatch wasn’t publicized the way Overwatch was, but the groundbreaking cybernetics work by Dr. Angela Ziegler gained some attention simply for the fact that it was done by Mercy of Overwatch. “So we’ll need to find a secondhand store, then,” he said, pulling out his phone and turning it on. 

“A secondhand store?” Genji said, frowning. 

“Well, we can’t exactly go to a mall,” McCree said, running a search. Given the way the city’d been wrecked, they’d probably have to go in person to see which ones were open. Not ideal for staying out of sight.

“Did you not just say that Reyes told us to stay out of the poorer areas?” Genji asked. “Secondhand stores would be right in the area the police would look. The owners report anything suspicious so law enforcement doesn’t harass them.”

McCree frowned. That was true - and considering where he’d grown up, Genji would know. Shopkeepers at places like that liked to keep a squeaky clean reputation. Unless they bribed the clerk, and that was no guarantee, the law would be on their tail as soon as they’d left. “Well, you got a better idea?” he asked. 

Genji smirked. “I do,” he said. “I used to know some people who liked London. I know where to go. Follow me.”

Before Blackwatch scooped him up, McCree had never been out of the same five states, with the occasional sojourn to the seedier parts of Mexico on business. He’d gotten used to finding his way in foreign countries, but if Genji had some insider knowledge, McCree would trust him. He followed.

The streets around the warehouse were shadowed and quiet, but Genji walked with the greatest confidence. McCree knew that trick too - act like you had somewhere to go, and the eye passed over you. He could see Genji’s eyes darting to check landmarks every so often, but he was a trained operative. He doubted anyone else would catch it, if they were watching from the windows. 

McCree didn’t know how long they’d been walking, but it was a while, since they couldn’t risk all the cameras on public transport. But eventually, the streets got cleaner and the storefronts had glass that wasn’t barred. The buildings went from concrete with a facade or some texture to mostly brick, and old brick at that, though the foundations were still some sort of stone. When they came to a street with signs hanging over doors and street lamps done up to look like the old gas style from the nineteenth century, Genji slowed, apparently to take a look inside the windows. 

“The people inside will have… certain expectations,” he said to McCree. “Follow my lead, and don’t be surprised when I call you Jesse.”

McCree nodded, although he was unsure what he’d be walking into. “Less recognizable than my callsign, anyway,” he said. 

Genji smiled. “Good.” When they came to the next shop, not distinguishable from the ones on either side except by the name on the sign, Genji clasped McCree’s hand in his own and walked in.

A clerk, their hair in hundreds of thin braids and wearing a black outfit that both complemented their dark skin and looked much nicer than what either he or Genji had on, greeted them warmly as soon as they came through the door. Genji smiled and began to speak to them, but looking at the inside of the shop, McCree was too unsettled to pay much attention. He hadn’t exactly been feeling confident about his clothes before, stinking of gunpowder and torn up as they were, but the well-lit interior with its clean off-white walls certainly didn’t help. The floor was a lovely dark wood, and he made a note to pick up his feet up a little higher to keep the spurs on his boots from scratching it. 

For a place that sold clothes, there weren’t a lot of them out on display. There were a few mannequins, but the focal point of the room was a large mirror against one wall, with an ornate couch and matching armchairs and a coffee table sitting on a thick rug off to one side. There was also a small table set flush against the opposite wall, set with an industrial coffee maker and an assortment of mugs and pastries. This looked like the kind of place that he'd be politely ushered out of as quickly as possible. He couldn't guess what they were doing here, and he tuned back in to Genji’s patter so he could tell what the real plan was. 

“It's Jesse's first time in London, and we didn't want to be bothered,” he was saying, in a slightly put-upon tone of voice. “So we had our security stay at home - a mistake, as you can see,” he said, gesturing at the sorry state of their clothes. “We thought we could wear something to keep the crowds off of us, and, well… it's so easy to get carried away when you're putting on a costume, isn't it?” Genji sighed. “We thought it would be fun to pretend to be those secret agents on suspension. They could take a vacation to London if they wanted - why shouldn't we be them? Only Overwatch really is here, so people thought we were real and threw rocks at us! Can you imagine?” he asked, gesturing with the hand that wasn't holding McCree’s.

The clerk put a hand to their mouth. “How awful!”

McCree couldn't believe it. Genji was trying to pass them off as idiot tourists dressing up as - well, themselves. And it was actually working. He couldn't believe the kind of balls that took. He let Genji keep talking, since he was handling the clerk so well. 

His partner’s prattle hadn't stopped. “So I told Jesse that we were getting out of these awful clothes and into some proper ones immediately, and then we will wait at a quality hotel for my security to arrive. I know there's no time for proper tailoring, but Yuna told me you were the best in the city for your vintage selection, and that your tailor accommodated rush jobs, so we can at least get alterations.”

The clerk nodded. “Oh, absolutely. We appreciate Miss Sasaki’s recommendation - our tailor remembers her well, and I'm sure he'd be happy to take on rush work, given the circumstances. Give me a moment to get everything set up, and we can take your measurements. Would you like anything to drink? We have coffee and teas as well as cognac, wine, and several whiskeys.”

“I will have tea - pu-erh, preferably - but I think Jesse should have a whiskey. He took everything just a little worse than I did.”

“You know I just can't stand to see you hurt,” McCree said. He wouldn't be in Blackwatch if he couldn't take a cue. “Whichever you recommend - no ice,” he said to the clerk. 

“Of course,” they said, in a tone that suggested that they would never dare, and disappeared into one of the doors on the back wall. 

Genji still kept ahold of his hand even after they seemed to be alone, so McCree figured surveillance was still a possibility and shuffled closer, pulling his partner into his chest and leaning down. When his mouth was close to Genji’s ear, McCree spoke, barely moving his lips. “Mind telling me what the hell the plan is here?”

Genji reached for McCree’s hat and smoothed down his hair, as if comforting a shaken loved one, before resting his hands on McCree’s waist. “We are tourists with more money than sense, and we're buying clothes,” he murmured. “The police will not look for us here. Alterations give us a good reason to wait safely out of sight, and no one expects us to disguise ourselves with expensive clothes. And the staff here are very discreet.”

McCree considered. It made sense - law didn't mess with people with money, especially ones with enough to frequent places like this, with tailors and several expensive liquors on hand. He didn't think he could pass as someone used to this, but Genji never told the clerk he was. He could be the exciting low-class boyfriend comfortably enough. That just left one question, but it was a big one. “No way we got sent enough to cover more than a pair of socks here,” he said quietly. “We can't pay, whole story falls apart and they call the cops on us to boot.”

“I have access to some… emergency funds,” Genji said. Taken from his old life, McCree guessed, given the way he hesitated. “More than enough to cover this. Don't worry.” He let go of McCree, handing back his hat and stepping away as the back door opened. The clerk came back with a tray holding a tumbler of whiskey for McCree and a steaming pot and two cups for Genji. They set it on the table in front of the sofa before handing them both their drinks. 

“If you would follow me, gentlemen,” the clerk said, “our tailor can get your measurements, and then we can begin finding acceptable clothes for you.” They started back towards another door, and McCree followed them and Genji both after a fortifying sip of some of the smoothest whiskey he'd ever tasted. 

The back room was sparsely furnished, done up in the same light walls and dark wood as the main room. There were a couple of low, wide stools as well as one chair and an end table that appeared to match the Victorian-style couch in the main room, and an alcove sheltered behind a folding screen. There was a mirror here as well, floor length but not as wide as the other one. Waiting for them was a four-armed omnic in an impeccable suit and a dark-haired man with a thin face whose pale skin was set off well by his dark suit pants and lavender shirt. 

“Our tailor and his assistant,” the clerk said, nodding first at the omnic and then at the man before slipping out the door they'd walked in. 

“Whichever one of you gentlemen would like to get measured first, please disrobe,” the omnic told them both in a light, quiet voice. 

Genji grasped his hand again. “Jesse, I must get out of these clothes as fast as possible,” he said, “so I will go first. Forgive me. Perhaps you can sit and finish your whiskey, calm your nerves while you wait.”

McCree smiled at him. “You know I'd do anything for you, so waiting won't bother me too much,” he said. He appreciated Genji going first; watching him would be McCree’s best guide on how to behave. “But be quick about it.” He let his partner go, watching as he started to take his clothes off, ignoring the alcove. McCree had seen him in the training room in nothing but armor and skin often enough he wasn't surprised. 

He took one more sip of whiskey before turning and eyeing the chair. How he'd keep his torn-up back off of it was a mystery. The tailor’s assistant stepped forward before he had to figure it out. 

“Would you like to freshen up while you're waiting, sir?” the man asked. He stepped a little closer and said quietly, “We have a first aid kit in the bathroom as well.”

“That sounds just fine,” McCree said. The tabletop next to the chair was a lovely wood, and he hated to put the glass of whiskey down on it bare. But the kind of person who'd let his boyfriend dress them both up as secret agents and ditch their security for a more romantic vacation wasn't gonna be much good with thinking of consequences, so it couldn't be helped.

The glass hadn't been on the wood ten seconds before the assistant had produced a leather coaster and placed it between the sweating glass - maybe it was even crystal, come to think of it - and the wood. Despite the borderline filthy look the man gave McCree, he was relieved. He didn't know how much Genji had in that account, but replacing a table that nice just because of some water marks would surely cut into it. Made the assistant pretty ticked off, though - McCree could see him try to bring his body language back to neutral, but it didn't quite work. 

The bathroom, when he was shown in, was just as nice as the rest of the place. The first aid kit that was produced was larger than McCree had expected, but as it proved to contain several low-power biotic field generators, he wasn't about to complain. He took off everything but his underwear - he'd had the lecture enough times about how biotics could cause your body to close up around dirt or torn bits of fabric enough to recite it back to the doctors stuck treating agents after a mission. Most of the time he got it while being opened back up so the doctor could extract whatever it was before it caused more problems. Agents didn't always have the chance to clean out their wounds in the field. Be nice to skip that part of a post-mission checkup. 

He took a quick look at himself - nothing major other than the wound on his back, but there were a few fresh bruises coming up under the skin- and hissed as he finally got a look in the mirror. The cut wasn't deep, but it was probably a foot long and jagged. He'd be able to reach it to clean it out, but stretching like that would pull painfully at the edges. 

The assistant, who he'd thought would have left when he started undressing, hissed in sympathy as well. “Do you need help with that, sir?”

“Wouldn't turn it down,” McCree said, forcing himself to turn around. His skin crawled at the idea of giving a stranger access to his wounded back, but he was undercover and Genji vouched for this place. Couldn't be helped. Still, he had to suppress a shudder as the man started to clean out the wound. He'd probably mistake it for pain. 

“Some vacation,” the man remarked as he worked. 

“It's just the start,” McCree replied. “Hopin’ it'll get better.”

The man snorted softly. “It had better, or what are you putting up with that body for?” he asked. 

Despite himself, the muscles of McCree’s back stiffened. “Excuse me?” he asked, trying to keep a hold on his temper. 

“You couldn't pay me enough to be with that… half-omnic thing,” the man said. “He's lucky your standards are lower.”

McCree turned around quickly and crossed his arms, taking a step closer to the assistant, who'd frozen in surprise. McCree was taller and bigger than the other man, and he knew how to use his size to his advantage, even mostly unclothed. “Now I wonder,” he said, voice dripping with fake curiosity, “just what your boss would say if I told him you were badmouthin’ the customers behind their backs.” He raised an eyebrow. “Should I be askin’ to speak to a manager right now?”

“I apologize, sir,” the assistant said, looking down. Seemed like he was trying not to let on he was mad he'd been called out. McCree guessed the boss wouldn't be too happy to hear this. “I spoke far too freely and rudely.”

“You sure did,” McCree agreed. “I feel bad for you, though, if you think it's low standards to get a dick that only gets soft when you're good and ready every night.” He was quiet for a moment, letting the remark sink in. After a good long moment of awkward silence, he added, “I think I can finish up in here by myself.”

He could see the assistant’s pale face flush, though it was even odds whether it was from anger or embarrassment. “I'll bring you a robe so you don't have to put those clothes back on,” he said, still looking at the ground. “I'm sorry, sir.” He walked out of the bathroom quickly. 

McCree took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He'd known, in some abstract way, that people could be nasty about Genji. He thought it was horseshit, judging a man by something that showed he'd survived, and it wasn't like the enhancements made him hard to look at. But this was the first time he'd really encountered it. Say what you would about Blackwatch, but none of them had any room to judge. He hadn't been with Genji when he interacted with civilians before; they'd mostly talked in bases and safehouses. It was the first time someone had shit-talked his friend in front of him, so he wasn't surprised at the flare of temper. 

Much temper beyond this wouldn't help keep their cover, though, so he took a few calming breaths while the biotics did their work. The skin on his back had just knitted together when there was a knock on the door. The assistant stood in front of it, holding a luxurious robe out to McCree. He took it and put it on, dropping some disinfectant wipes and another emitter into the pocket. Then he opened the door wide, letting the assistant see the mess he'd left. “Gonna want most of that stuff back, now,” he said, maliciously cheerful. “Might be good for a costume party.” He smiled, not nicely, at the man before he went back to Genji. 

McCree tried to leave that bit of pettiness behind when he came back in the other room. Hopefully the assistant had been disabused of any doubts he'd had, but him feeling safe enough to say something nasty to McCree, even if he'd still had his back up about that damn coaster, meant he needed to double down on the affection if he wanted to keep their cover intact. So he let his eyes linger on the lines of Genji's body, flesh and mechanical alike. The tailor seemed to be just about done with him, from what little McCree knew about the process. He waited until he thought he'd caught the tailor’s attention before asking, “Will I be in your way if I fix up his arm?”

“Not at all, sir,” the omnic told him, but he seemed preoccupied doing something with a measuring tape and the bend of the joints in Genji’s knees and ankles. McCree stepped carefully around him, giving Genji's flesh arm a polite tap to let him know he was there and about to touch him, though of course Genji knew. Still, best to be careful with people with reflexes like theirs. McCree opened the disinfectant wipes. 

As he cleaned out the cut, he said, “Just as well you're on this stool. Hate to get a neck cramp looking down at you.” He looked up at Genji with a grin; despite the eight inches of height that the stool gave him, he only topped McCree by two or three inches at the moment. 

Genji smirked at him. “I believe we've had this conversation before, and my answer remains the same,” he said. “If it's such a problem, you can always kneel.”

McCree laughed. Instead of answering, he cracked the emitter in his robe pocket and watched the cut heal up and some of the tension drop out of Genji's shoulders. McCree figured he'd had forming bruises under his skin just like McCree had, and Genji had been more active during the fight to boot; probably had the lingering soreness of overused muscles, too. The biotic field took care of all that, and McCree was glad again that the first aid kit wasn't a traditional one. 

The tailor had finished up while the field did its work, and he indicated that Genji should step down. The clerk had reappeared with a matching robe for Genji - the assistant was probably still cleaning up. 

“Now that I have your measurements, would you like to talk about potential styles while your partner is measured?” the clerk asked. 

Genji smiled at them. “Yes, I would,” he said. “I have a few ideas for Jesse and I, depending on what years and designers you have.” He put on the robe and followed the clerk out the door, spitting out numbers and names that meant nothing to McCree. 

The tailor was quick and professional about his job, although he seemed a bit troubled at the circumference of McCree’s thighs. Soon enough, McCree was back in the robe and waiting with the rest of his whiskey in the main room. Genji emerged from yet another door, this one on the side wall - this place must be built like a rabbit warren, McCree thought. The clerk was behind him, pulling a rack hung with dark clothes. They consulted something on a tablet and frowned, quickly pulling several pieces to the side. 

Genji smiled at him. “Come, see what you like, Jesse,” he said. 

McCree braced himself. He'd flipped through a fashion magazine once or twice in his time, mostly out of boredom, and he'd mostly come away with the impression that people seemed to think the stranger the better. He was pleasantly surprised by the selection on the rack. There were quite a few things he'd never consider putting on, and he hoped those were for Genji. But there were plenty of mostly normal-looking dark jeans and shirts. His eye was especially drawn to a leather jacket with a high collar, covered in snaps and deep pockets. He reached over to feel the weight of it. 

“Ah! I thought you'd like that one,” Genji said, grinning at him. “Will it fit? Jesse is very muscular,” he said to the clerk. His tone was all business, but clearly he'd picked up on McCree’s cues, because the look he got was much less professional. 

The clerk tapped at their tablet a few times before looking at them both. “Yes, it should,” they said. “That line was cut for broader men.”

“Excellent!” Genji clapped his hands together. “Do you like anything else in particular?” he asked McCree. 

McCree shook his head. “I'll trust your judgment on this one, darlin’,” he said. “You know what I like.” 

There was something a little wicked about the way Genji smiled at him. McCree thought he might end up in something a little further outside his comfort zone than the leather jacket, but nothing on the rack looked too out there. He'd let it ride. 

Genji turned to consult with the clerk, and McCree found himself in the alcove in the tailor’s room with two pairs of jeans and three shirts to try on. The first pair was a loss - he couldn't get them much past his knees, and he was sincerely afraid he'd pop a seam peeling them back off. But the second had zippers in the thighs, and when he buttoned the waist he found the material had enough give that he didn't feel shrink-wrapped. He eyed the shirts worriedly, and picked the one that looked like it had the most ease to the shoulder seam - it was blue and shone slightly in the light. 

Genji stopped chatting with the clerk as he stepped into the main room, and gestured McCree towards the stool in front of the mirror. McCree obligingly turned so Genji could see it all. 

“Hmm,” his partner said, tapping his mouth with his flesh hand. “Perhaps not that shirt - but the jeans are good.” His gaze lingered on the way McCree’s thighs fit into them. “And I think - boots with them. Black boots - leather, perhaps? To go with the jacket?” He turned to the clerk, who obligingly held out a pair of boots with a spur far more decorative than the one on the boots McCree had worn in. But Genji shook his head decisively. “No, I don't want to be reminded of that horrible costume ever again! I'll find something. Jesse, try the gray shirt. I think it will suit you better.”

When McCree came back out, wearing the gray shirt patterned with dark flowers, Genji had clearly made his choice. He beckoned McCree over to the couch and knelt in front of him, sweeping the robe under his metal knees and sitting back on his heels in one elegant movement. When he took McCree’s foot in his lap, sliding socks onto him, McCree tried to turn his attention to the boots sitting beside him. It was hard to ignore the contrasting sensations of Genji's flesh and metal hands, though. McCree hadn't realized his ankles could be that sensitive to a gentle touch. He fought the urge to shiver, and was grateful when Genji moved to begin lacing up the boots - they looked like a fancier leather version of standard military issue. 

He looked down when Genji rested a hand on his knee, finished. McCree couldn't interpret the look on his face, but he took Genji's hand in his own, offering his partner help up. The clerk had appeared sometime when they were both distracted, offering the leather jacket on one arm and a white belt with a black pattern on the other. Genji took the belt from them and held it out towards McCree. “Stand up and let me help you, Jesse,” he said. “I do so enjoy dressing you up.”

Genji had to press up against him to slide the belt through the back loops of McCree’s jeans, and he wasn't quick about it. He buckled the belt slowly too. McCree had to hold his breath to keep the muscles under Genji's fingers from twitching. He let his partner slide the jacket on, feeling the lingering way his hands slid over his chest and arms. When it was fastened, he grabbed for Genji's wrists, keeping them pinned against his chest for a long moment before he lifted the metal one to his lips, pressing a barely-there kiss to the palm. “I love it when you spoil me, darlin’,” he said. 

After a moment, the strange expression cleared from Genji's face. “Well, let me see what I'm paying for,” he said, grinning. 

McCree winked at him, wiggling his hips a little as he turned on the stand again. He caught his own eye in the mirror and paused. He was looking pretty sharp - seemed expensive clothes were mostly what they were cracked up to be. The leather jacket framed his shoulders, emphasizing their breadth, and the zippers on the jeans directed the eye down the thick muscles of his thighs. With the shirt covered by the jacket, the outfit was one long streak of black, not unlike his mission gear. Not a bad look at all. 

Genji seemed to agree, if the appreciative up and down McCree got wasn't just for show. “Much better,” he said. He looked to the tailor, who had just walked out with his still shamefaced assistant. “He'll wear this out. How long for the alterations, do you think?”

The tailor circled him, the lights on his faceplate flashing slowly. “An hour, perhaps. He's tall - that's helpful.”

Genji nodded. “Yes - I'll be a bit trickier, I think, but Yuna assured me you were up to the task.”

The omnic drew himself up. “Of course. Anything for a friend of Miss Sasaki.” His mechanical voice seemed to grow softer around the name. 

Genji clapped his hands. “Excellent! Jesse, go put the robe back on. Everything else of yours will be a surprise. Now it's my turn.”

Glad to be done with the weight of several appraising gazes on him, McCree went. At least the robe was comfortable, and covered enough he felt comfortable sitting in the front of the shop in it. As soon as he'd settled on the sofa, the clerk appeared, offering him another whiskey. Seeing as they were going to be here a good little while yet, he almost accepted, but then reconsidered. “Actually, is there anything decent to eat around here? It's been a pretty long day, and he won't say it, but I'm pretty sure we could both use a meal. Didn't exactly have the chance to stop before, but we can't be seen like this, of course.” He gestured at the robe, smiling wryly. 

The clerk looked at him, and he could see the obvious question - _so he does eat, then?_ \- show on their face before they obviously thought better of it. Maybe the assistant had gossiped already. “There are several restaurants around that are good quality. What do you two enjoy?”

“Something spicy,” McCree said definitively. “We're not used to your chilly weather over here. Other than that, I'll trust your judgment - no allergies or anything you need to worry about. He'll just be happy it got taken care of.”

The clerk looked at him with some amusement - their outfit was topped with short cap sleeves, so they clearly didn't consider the weather chilly. But McCree was from the Southwest, and from what Genji had said, he was from a nice warm part of Japan near the coast. It was certainly cooler than the both them were used to for late spring. “I'll put the order in,” they said, but McCree wasn't surprised when his whiskey was refilled anyway a few moments later. 

Genji, when he emerged, was wearing something quite different than the clothes the tailor was even now altering for McCree. The pants were loose - had to be, to not foul up the intricate joints of the prosthetics - but in a way reminiscent of more traditional Japanese styles. The top was the most flashy thing McCree had ever seen Genji wear, printed as it was in swirls and stars and metallic tigers. And the pants were held up by a belt whose buckle was a large gold dragon’s head. McCree wondered if this was part of the character or something Genji genuinely liked - hard to tell when all he normally wore was Overwatch-branded gear or the clothes that disguised the shine of his armor. It suited him, though - the sleeveless top showed off the hard muscle of his flesh arm and shoulder and the matching strength of the mechanical one. McCree had to admit, he was disappointed when the clerk brought out a lightweight coat, though he understood why Genji had to cover up. 

His partner frowned in the mirror at himself. He adjusted the wide cowl of the coat in minute movements, trying to cover the metal that had replaced his shattered jaw. Though he'd taken off the visor and mask that normally covered most of his face sometime when McCree was in the bathroom, there was still a good portion of his face that was prosthetic, and the coat wasn't quite enough to hide all of it. After a few more moments of fussing, he gave up. 

“I need a hat as well,” Genji announced. “Something that will go well with several outfits and that shades my face.” 

The clerk was already coming forward to discuss options with him, but McCree’s eye drifted to one of the mannequins. It was wearing a black hat with a wide, floppy brim that reminded him of the ones women wore in old, old movies - ones where they'd just begun to record the sound. It was a bit frayed at one edge, but since it was on display, McCree assumed that was on purpose. He thought it would suit the lines of Genji's face well. 

“What about that one, darlin’?” he asked, nodding towards it. 

Genji looked up from the clerk’s tablet and frowned. “Well, it would certainly cover my face properly. Let's see if it will match.” He looked pretty skeptical about the idea. 

Admittedly, McCree didn't know much about fashion, especially not the loose, billowing shapes of the clothes Genji was wearing now. But he was willing to bet the elegance of the hat would pull the outfit together, once Genji put it on. He watched his partner’s face in the mirror when the clerk brought the hat over, and watched the pleased grin creep onto his face. Genji turned so McCree could see him properly. 

“You have a good eye, Jesse,” he said. “I didn't think this was my style at all until I put it on.” 

“Well, I do pay attention to what looks good on you,” McCree told him. “Though you can make just about anything work.”

Genji grinned at him, a warm expression completely free from the smugness or arrogance his smiles normally hinted at. It was unfairly attractive. “As long as you think I'm lovely, I could wear a paper bag. Though I do feel better in decent clothes.”

“Well, I sure appreciate you in those,” McCree said. It was true. Covered up in the loose clothes with only a little of his face visible, Genji looked mysterious in a way very different from that of a black ops agent. He looked more like a celebrity trying to pass without too much attention, or a powerful politician looking to escape the tabloids for a day. It caught the eye, made a body linger on the smooth, graceful way he moved. 

“I will take all of these, for certain,” Genji told the clerk, who had been standing by unobtrusively while they flirted. “And I think the 2023 McQueen as well.”

“Of course, sir,” they said, and took a few more items off the rack. 

While Genji was changing and discussing alterations with the tailor, their food arrived. McCree helped the clerk set it all out on the table in front of the couch - a huge platter of appetizers, fried soft-shelled crab with a delectable-looking sauce, rice, and a red curry topped with dried chiles and spicy enough to make his eyes water if he put his face too close. All of it was hot and smelled amazing, and McCree hoped the clerk had gotten something for themself, too. It was getting on towards dinnertime. 

Soon enough, the murmur of conversation from the other room stopped, and Genji came out, back in his robe and audibly sniffing. “Something smells wonderful - is that Thai?” he asked, looking at the spread. 

“It is - your partner told me you would be hungry, and I know Miss Sasaki was fond of this.” The clerk smiled at him, and Genji smiled back. 

“Thank you, then - and thank you too, Jesse. This is exactly what I needed, after a day like today.” He turned his smile towards McCree, the same fond expression that he'd had on when he saw how good the hat looked. McCree couldn't help but smile back. It would have been much too affectionate if they weren't playing besotted couple. 

“Can I get you anything else?” the clerk asked them. 

“Don't suppose you got any beer with the food?” McCree asked. 

The clerk rummaged in another bag, and when they came up with four beers, McCree smiled. He didn't recognize the brand, but he'd need something to wash the spice of that curry away. 

“Excellent!” Genji said, smiling harder. “Thank you for everything. You should go eat your own meal - we'll be just fine.”

“Thank you, sir,” the clerk said, and ducked through a door with a bag in their hands. Good, they did have something to eat. McCree hoped they'd left that pissant assistant out of the food order.

They weren’t quite touching when Genji sat down, but the moment McCree moved his right arm or Genji his left, that would change. McCree ignored that in favor of passing his beer to Genji, since he didn’t see a bottle opener. “Don’t exactly know the names for most of this, since I had them just order whatever they liked that was spicy, but looks good, don’t it?”

Genji popped the cap off with his metal hand, passing the beer back to McCree. “It does.” He opened a bottle for himself before sliding forward on the couch. His robe, like McCree’s, fell well past his knees, but the movement still made it ride up a little higher, made the belt loosen and the top gape just a bit. McCree looked away, grabbing a skewer of meat so he had something to do with his mouth.

Genji had gone straight for the curry, snagging a piece of the dark meat that swam in the hot sauce. The tops of his cheeks flushed as he chewed and swallowed. “It’s spicy!” he exclaimed, smiling. 

McCree laughed. “Well, it does have peppers on top, darlin’,” he teased.

“I wasn’t complaining!” Genji said. “It’s wonderful. You know how much I love hot food.”

That was true. Most of Genji’s digestive system was intact, but the special circulatory fluid needed to flow between his cybernetic and biological components did something funny to tastes, sometimes. Heavily spiced foods tended to counteract that. 

“Glad it’s hot enough, then,” McCree said, then plugged his mouth with the beer bottle before he could make any more inane remarks under the guise of flirting.

The food disappeared quickly, and McCree felt a flush rising on his own cheeks from the peppers. He was loose from the whiskey and the beer, although not too loose, as they weren’t anywhere he’d consider defensible yet. Still, they’d been there long enough that he felt they were mostly out of danger, and he let it show in the ease in which he touched Genji, the way he smiled at him, not having to try real hard to present the ideal image of a couple in love.

Genji didn’t seem to be having too much trouble either; he fed McCree bits of shrimp and crab, teasingly stole bits of appetizers just before McCree could lay hands on them, pressed a quick kiss to McCree’s lips when he managed to get the last of a dish, chasing the taste. The beers disappeared just as quickly as the food under that kind of provocation. Genji must have been a champion at gay chicken, McCree thought. His hands didn’t limit themselves to the relative safety of McCree’s waist and shoulders. His hips and thighs and chest all received the same glancing, thoughtless affection. If it weren’t for the clerk who’d been so considerate, McCree would have considered upping the ante. With the alcohol warming his blood, he could admit that it would be damn nice to get his hands all over Genji. 

In fact, they were almost lounging all over each other by the time the tailor emerged from his back room to inform them it was time for their final fittings. They didn’t exactly spring apart - shame was nothing but suspicious in circumstances like this - but there were a few moments of sorting out whose limbs belonged exactly where and straightening of clothes before they could both stand up. 

For the limited amount of time he’d had, the tailor had done a bang-up job. When McCree pulled on the jeans, there seemed to be at least a little more ease in the seams, and the shirt was fitted more closely around the waist. There were probably a few other small adjustments, but he’d never paid enough attention to the fit of his clothes to be able to pick them out. It was enough that he noticed they looked better in the mirror, and that was more than good enough for him.

Genji, though - the tailor had transformed the loose fit of his top and pants into something like a tease. The low dip to the tank top was still there, but the loose pants now hinted at the sculpted shape of the legs they covered. McCree was even sorrier when the coat and the hat came out, hiding the playful angles of Genji’s expression as he examined himself. 

“No shoes?” he asked. Not that Genji’s metal feet really needed them, but they could draw attention.

“No - I’m assured that metallic shoes are the trend here in London,” Genji told him. “Besides, they get worn out so quickly. I’d rather save the money, if I’ll be fashionable without them.”

“Good enough for me, honey,” McCree said. “Long as you’re happy with it.”

“I am,” Genji said definitively. McCree couldn’t see much of his expression beyond the floppy brim of the hat, but his voice seemed sincere enough. 

McCree found something else to do with himself while Genji paid - he didn’t want to know how much all this had cost, and he knew he’d be much better off if he didn’t stress over it while they were stuck together in London. The clerk and the tailor’s assistant hadn’t gotten around to cleaning up the food containers, so he gathered everything together to make it easier on them, seeing as there wasn’t a garbage can in his line of sight. 

“What are you doing?” Genji asked, reappearing by his side. There were more bags in his hands than McCree expected, and he was holding a backpack that he extended towards McCree. “Never mind. Your things, and the ones of mine that I wanted to keep, are in here. Carry them, Jesse, please? The staff here has recommended a hotel for us, and we can walk, now that we’re presentable again.”

McCree put the backpack on without complaint and took enough of the bags from Genji that they could hold hands, flesh to flesh. Metal didn't get sore from holding shopping bags too long, after all. They had to press close as they went out into the temperate London evening - plenty of pedestrian traffic, still, and two men with shoulders like theirs took up a good bit of real estate. It was cool, but not unpleasantly so - just enough so that McCree could feel the heat of Genji’s hand in his own, the way the warmth seemed to travel through his whole body with their closeness.

“Pretty swanky vacation,” he said, for lack of anything else to say.

Genji snorted beside him, squeezing his hand.

“Upset to spend that much cash?” McCree asked. Must be alarming to see a chunk of change that big fly out of your emergency fund.

“What?” Genji asked, then waved his hand. “No, not that. It was worth it to sit comfortably with you for a while, anyway. I’m just sorry you had to see me like this.”

“What, decked out in nice clothes? You pull it off well. Ain’t a hardship,” McCree said.

“Not that. This… two-faced simperer. Making nice, spinning lies, expecting the world to bend to my whims,” Genji said. “I miss my old body, but I thought I’d left all this behind with it.”

McCree laughed, a short bark, before he could stop himself. “Spinnin’ lies and expectin’ the world to do what you want ain’t that far from our job description,” he said. 

“Yes, but we work for it. We don’t just buy it,” Genji said.

“We buy it sometimes,” McCree said. “Sometimes that’s the better way. Like now.” He hadn’t been much for the idea to start with, but it had turned out a hell of a lot better than he expected. Genji was good at selling a story, and he was good at catching cues when they were tossed at him.

Genji sighed and went silent for a few moments as they passed by a large gaggle of tourists, similarly laden with bags. There was a bit of tricky negotiation so both parties could occupy the sidewalk at once. McCree dropped Genji’s hand in favor of pressing close and putting his arm around Genji’s waist. He caught a whiff of warm metal, but right now Genji smelled mostly of the strong spices in the Thai food they’d eaten earlier. McCree licked his lips absently.

When all the other people on the street were safely distant, McCree took Genji’s hand as his partner started talking again. “It’s different, this way, than it is for work. I don’t know how to explain. There’s… an attitude that comes with having money and knowing that you’ll keep having it. Like it’s something you’ve done, it’s something that it’s your right to have.”

McCree nodded. Genji was quiet for several blocks, and McCree didn’t rush him, taking a good look at the stores they were passing as they walked. Eventually, his partner spoke up again.

“It’s an unpleasant attitude and it’s a dangerous one. When I was young, I wanted to believe that the people surrounding me were my friends for my own sake - they enjoyed my money and the power of my name, of course, but they did like me too. Believing that they had my best interests at heart - it was bad for me. It helped make me into this.” He gestured vaguely at the metal parts of his body. 

“I had plenty of time to think after my injury. Plenty of time with nothing to do _but_ think. I blame the ones who did this, of course, but the fact remains that I was arrogant. I learned that there was nothing I could do that money wouldn’t fix - nothing but that one thing. And that, money fixed in a different way.” Genji squeezed McCree’s hand tightly, but when McCree chanced a glance over, his eyes under the hat’s brim were distant. 

“The man who did this to me - he hasn’t faced any punishment. Not from the law, not from people like us, not from anyone who called themselves my friends, although they have enough influence to make life troubling for him. I can’t go back, not like this, but I still have internet. I can still read the news. I know what to look for. And his business is just fine. Doing better, now that I’m not there to hinder it. If you have enough money, enough influence, anything can be overlooked.” Genji’s voice was bitter. “Getting away with murder - it’s an interesting English idiom, isn’t it?” 

“Sure is,” McCree said softly. They got away with murder every day, but they were cautious. They had plausible deniability on their side, an official mandate, something resembling legitimate authority. Reyes was up at the top, checking up on them, making sure things were done in a way he could live with. Blackwatch had something resembling a moral compass, since most of the recruits sure as shit didn’t have much of one. This - this was unchecked power Genji was talking about here. People let shit happen because they liked what happened when the people around them had money and liked them. And Genji had been the victim of that. Had almost died for it. 

Genji made a face, almost invisible in the shadows cast by his outfit. “So I don't like putting that attitude on again. It feels like… Like those jeans must have, before the tailor ripped out the seams to give you more room. Constricting, that's the word. Old. Like going backwards. I want to change. I won't ever let something like that happen to me again.”

He looked over at McCree, and his eyes were burning. McCree felt a little like he thought the Eradicator might have felt on the end of Genji’s blade earlier today. Pinned. Worn down. About to be destroyed, if he didn't do something about it. 

Weren't the first time he'd been in a spot like that, though. Wouldn't be the last. McCree rolled his words around in his mouth before he spoke, like he'd heard people did with expensive wine, to keep that last part true. 

“Don't think anybody could do somethin’ like that if they tried, now,” he said. “Think you learned your lesson about trust, and all that armor makes for a smaller target. ‘Specially with all of us at the organization ‘round you all the time.” He tapped his hand against the metal plating of his partner’s abdomen for emphasis. 

Genji relaxed a little. “Very true,” he said. “Everyone in the organization - they understand us better than anyone else, I think. We're all slow to trust, but we trust that we know one another’s ways well enough to work together.”

“You and me, we got a little more trust than most, workin’ together so much,” McCree said. He was pushing his luck and he knew it, but he didn't much care. 

The last of the tension between them dropped out of the air. “You think I buy vintage McQueen for just anyone, Jesse?” Genji said, mock-seriously. He looked McCree up and down. “Though it was worth it just to see you out of all those layers for a change. You have an admirable figure.”

McCree wanted to follow up on that, but they'd come to the front of what must be the hotel the shop staff had pointed them towards. It was connected to other buildings, like everything in this part of the city seemed to be. It was all brick, though, and that set it apart from its surroundings - that and the Victorian-style windows all over the outside. McCree grabbed Genji’s hand a little tighter. He was tired of feeling an interloper on this mission, but old fancy buildings with luxurious interiors had him wanting to look around for security, who had to be bearing down on him to politely escort him away from where the real customers could see him.

He didn't let it show, though. He was playing the same part as he had all day. Not much more trouble to keep going. Even when the front doors led into an opulent marble-floored reception area, with a huge dark wood bar area off to one side. The crisp scent of well-preserved leather surrounding him helped to keep his spine straight and his steps sure. 

The staff here seemed just as eager to please as the clerk at the boutique, especially after Genji mentioned their name and the name of the business that referred them. He seemed to be negotiating for the nicest room available with no cameras - “Jesse is _very_ concerned about his privacy,” he overheard Genji say in just over a whisper to the receptionist - so McCree left him to it. He could haggle the price of eggs or potatoes in a farmer’s market, or the fair value of a bike just about anywhere, but this was Genji’s wheelhouse. Maybe the next mission would have something more suited to his own skills. In the meantime, he turned his attention to the small, elegant signs posted near the desk.

They seemed to mostly inform guests of what was offered at the hotel - hours for the spa, restaurants, and pool (McCree took note of that last one), information on the tea service they offered, and a card about the specialty cocktails of the month, using in season ingredients, apparently. Next to that was a sign encouraging guests to learn The Art of Sabrage in a dinner course. 

“Sabrage?” he said out loud, curious. He’d probably said it wrong, but no one corrected him. 

The receptionist, possibly sensing an upsell, told him, “Oh, it's very interesting! Napoleon’s officers would open champagne bottles with their sabers. If you don't want to learn it yourselves, you can have it done for you at dinner.” She smiled at them hopefully.

Genji’s face was doing something interesting under his hat as the receptionist spoke. “Not tonight, I don't think - but I would like to have a bottle of champagne sent up to our room along with our things.”

“Of course,” said the receptionist, and the tablet screen where Genji was looking through their room options changed to show a wine list. He made a selection quickly, before McCree had a chance to convert the price in his head. That was the last thing that needed doing, it looked like, as a drone trundled out of a doorway, pushing a hovercart for their bags. The receptionist handed Genji a set of what appeared to be old brass keys, which worried McCree for a moment before he saw the tiny computer chip glittering on the end. Just more of that thing where rich people liked shit to look old, then, he supposed. The drone, meanwhile, had taken the shopping bags they'd set on the floor and put them on the cart, beeping softly. 

“Your champagne will be up shortly, and Milly here will put your things up properly.” The receptionist nodded at the drone. “You're room 312, a junior suite. Let us know if you need anything.”

“We will, thank you,” Genji said, smiling, and tapped a shiny black card embossed with a matte symbol McCree couldn't quite make out against the screen for a few moments. No wonder he wasn't having trouble with identification or anything like that, even dropping as much money as he was. Black cards like that had the best encryption money could buy, and they only worked in the hands of their intended user. Microscanners on the surface checked the user’s DNA every time it was touched, and sampled the sweat people couldn't help leaving behind. If it detected elevated stress hormones and a rapid pulse, it not only denied access to the account but sent a signal to local law enforcement and personal security forces. But they were expensive, and generally only issued to people who didn't want their retinal scan on file. Politicians, corporate executives, and the top echelons of crime families, mostly. That black card meant someone you really didn't want to piss off. 

The receptionist eyed her screen, then tapped rapidly at it, probably making a note of just that. She smiled, and Genji's screen flashed a receipt and then, quickly, what looked like an outline of the security measures in the hotel. Seemed there was a lot of tech crammed in beneath the brick, as well as physical patrols. Good to know. Probably that was the reason the clerk at the boutique had directed them to this hotel, after seeing Genji’s card. 

The man in question smiled at the receptionist, a bit more mysteriously than before. Then he took McCree’s hand and led him up the stairwell, where McCree had seen that the cameras transmitted to a live monitoring system but didn't record. 

Their room, when the door unlocked with a beep-click that was the opposite of the old-fashioned image it presented, was lovely - and very red. “You tryin’ to tell me somethin’?” McCree joked, thinking of the red flowers on the shirt Genji had picked for him. 

“Yes,” Genji said, looking away from him as he settled his hat and coat. “Red is your color. You should wear it more often.”

McCree almost flushed. “Don't look too bad on you either,” he said, thinking of the red glow his partner’s enhanced irises had in combat. 

“I used to be fond of green, but red has its appeal,” Genji said as he watched McCree hang his own jacket. The little drone had been and gone, it seemed, seeing as there were quite a few outfits hung in the wardrobe. 

McCree coughed. He'd heard the receptionist assuring Genji that the monitoring on this suite ended at the door. They weren't flirting for show any more, and Genji didn't have to hide the intensity or the predatory nature of his gaze now. It was harder to take, knowing it was serious. But it certainly wasn't unpleasant. 

A soft chime filled the room, and Genji turned that heavy gaze towards the door. “Our champagne,” he said. 

“I've got it,” McCree said. Genji’s cybernetics were noticeable without his coat, and the fewer who saw them the better. 

He tipped the omnic butler who handed him the hovering tray with two glasses and a bottle on ice with the Blackwatch expenses card - just that was enough to knock out the cost Reyes had allotted him for one night. But Genji had paid for enough. McCree pulled the champagne into the room to see Genji rummaging through the backpack, crouched on the floor. He pulled out his sword and smiled at McCree, some of the weight in his eyes softened. 

“I had mandatory sword training as I was growing up,” he told McCree. “As I got older, I wanted to learn every trick I could - anything flashy, to show off for all the lovely girls and boys and others I liked.”

McCree grinned - he could see where this was going. “Did it work? Showing off?” he asked. 

“Why don't we find out?” Genji asked him, pulling out the bottle of champagne. “This once was one of my more impressive tricks.”

McCree could see why. In that low-cut sleeveless shirt, it was easy to watch how Genji’s biceps and pectorals flexed as he held the bottle away from his body, balanced in his hand in a way that drew attention to the strong veins of his forearm. McCree well knew the dexterity and power of the sword in the cybernetic hand, but he'd never seen it like this - Genji showing off how attractive he was, not just how skilled. 

The sword made a clinking sound against the glass as Genji ran it back and forth once over the neck, and then with a quick precise thrust, the cork was free and bubbles and mist poured from the bottle. Genji tilted it back upright, pouring champagne into the glasses before settling the bottle back in the ice bucket and the sword back in the wardrobe. 

“Well?” he asked McCree, handing him a flute. “Did it work? Were you impressed?” His expression was smug, slightly triumphant. He knew very well it worked. 

McCree took a slow swallow of champagne - smooth and not as sweet as he was expecting - before he answered. “I was, but it sure wasn't the most impressive thing you did today. That would have to go to the way you took out that Eradicator.”

Genji smiled at him, and there were echoes of the predatory, dangerous way he'd looked at McCree after spilling his secrets in it. He took a long swallow of his own champagne, draining half the glass and baring the lines of his throat. McCree’s pulse picked up. 

Without a word, Genji put down his own glass and took back McCree’s as well. He stepped in close to his partner, looking up as he forced McCree to look down to keep looking at his face. “Is that so?” he asked, rhetorically, before taking McCree’s face in his hands and pulling him into a kiss. 

This was a real kiss, not the show-offy ones they'd had earlier to cement their story. Genji's mouth was warm on his own, and his lips tasted like the tart champagne and still a bit like peppers. He pulled McCree in, not quickly but firmly, and kissed him with intent. His metal jaw wasn't cool, as McCree had expected when he leaned into the kiss and put his own hand on Genji’s face. It was warm from the surrounding flesh, and concentrating on that wasn't enough to keep him from getting weak in the knees as Genji's mouth moved slowly against his. 

He moved his hands to Genji's shoulders to steady himself against the slick pressure of the man’s mouth, and also because he wanted to feel that tightly coiled power. He squeezed them and used his grip to pull Genji backwards with him towards where he thought the bed was. 

Either he miscalculated or Genji had other plans, though, because he broke the kiss when his back hit a wall. Genji’s hands were sliding down over his neck and chest to the hem of his shirt and then sliding back up, pinning him there with the strength in his arms and the press of his legs against McCree’s.

“Now that I've finally seen you in clothes that fit, I want to see you out of them, properly,” Genji said, tugging on the shirt for emphasis. 

“You too,” McCree said, voice hoarse. He'd seen Genji without clothes plenty of times, of course, but the intent now was very different. 

Genji let him go, and McCree watched the careful process of taking off his shirt without it getting caught in any metal parts until Genji gave him a pointed look. Then he pulled his own shirt over his head, undoing his belt and the zippers on his jeans as he watched the same negotiations with Genji’s pants after he'd taken off the belt. It felt more urgent to get his jeans off after that, but they were tight. He'd peeled them most of the way down his thighs before he cursed. He'd forgotten to take his boots off, first. 

“Distracted?” Genji asked him. His clothes were all off, draped neatly on the couch at the foot of the bed. 

“You been distractin’ me all night and you know it,” McCree shot back. 

“No more than you have,” Genji said. “But since you say it’s my fault, here, let me help you.” He put his hands on McCree’s thighs, just below the waist of his crumpled jeans, and knelt, taking McCree’s foot into his lap. McCree had to lean his head against the wall, taking his weight on his shoulders. The feel of Genji’s fingers, warm as they gently slid under the tops of his boots,reminded him of how sensitive his feet had felt earlier in the store. He couldn’t watch that happening in reverse if he didn’t want to embarrass himself.

Genji, of course, ruined that. He squeezed McCree’s foot through the boot, and McCree looked down.

“Not going to pay attention while you’ve got me on my knees for you, Jesse?” he asked. “I’m almost insulted.” He was grinning, but that expression could turn bad in a heartbeat. 

“Can’t have that,” McCree said. “Not after you been so nice to me today.” He moved his foot over a bit until the boot’s sole pressed gently against the plate covering Genji’s groin. He didn’t know exactly what Genji was packing down there, but it had to be something, because at the careful pressure his lashes fluttered. 

“Mm,” Genji hummed. “Quite rude. Maybe I should just leave you like this - pants down, stuck in these lovely boots I chose for you. It’s quite an appealing image.” His hands wandered up McCree’s calves, then came back down, softly stroking the supple leather of the boots around his ankles. “Would it bother you, being confined?”

“What, so I couldn’t run from you?” McCree asked. “Like I’d want to. Or couldn’t you tell?” He’d thought the way he wanted Genji had been visible from the moon today. 

Genji gave him a blatant up-and-down, lingering on the erection now obvious under his thin underwear. “I can tell _something_ appeals. Is it me, or is it the way I’m pushing you around?”

“Can’t it be both?” McCree asked. His breath was unsteady with desire as he stared into that frank, burning gaze. 

Genji’s smile grew. “It certainly could,” he agreed. His hands had never stopped moving, slowly unlacing the boot and sliding under it to stroke the thin skin over McCree’s ankle. It was such a small touch, but the delicacy of it got to him - Genji could yank him off balance at any moment like this and they both knew it. He’d thrown McCree around enough in the practice ring. And tangled up in his clothes like this, there wasn’t much he could do to prevent it. But instead, McCree got these light, teasing touches, metal hand and flesh hand trading places to feather softly over bare skin. The contrast took his breath away.

He wanted to get a little of his own back. His foot was still between Genji’s legs, so he pressed down again, not so gently this time. Genji gasped.

“So you want to play like that, do you?” Genji asked, when McCree let up the pressure and he’d gotten his breath back.

“Just want you to get a move on,” McCree said. “Don’t want to be the only one enjoyin’ this.”

“Believe me, you aren’t,” Genji said, but nevertheless, he finally took McCree’s foot out of his boot and repeated the process with the other one, much faster. He squeezed McCree’s ankle once, gently, and then yanked his jeans down, much less gently.

McCree was on board with this. He stepped out of his pants and then his underwear, slowing down just enough to keep from catching his erection on the elastic band but otherwise moving fast as he could. Genji stayed on his knees just long enough to give McCree’s cock an appreciative look before springing up and pulling McCree into another kiss.

The sensation of his body pressed against mostly metal instead of flesh was strange, but not bad. He took a moment to enjoy it, but he had more important things to worry about, like the teasing darts of Genji’s tongue against his lips. McCree busied himself with returning those in kind, opening his mouth just enough that he could take Genji’s bottom lip firmly between his teeth, delivering a quick, sharp nip that got him drawn deeper into the kiss. 

Genji’s hands started to wander, one sliding from his lower back to take a firm handful of his ass and squeeze. McCree took this as permission to do a little exploring himself, like he'd wanted to for hours. They were pressed too close for him to get his hands on the firm swell of Genji’s chest, so he contented himself with feeling the muscular back. He avoided the ports for the tubes that delivered the nanites that kept up Genji’s cybernetics when they were at a base - didn’t want to get anything nasty in Genji’s internals - but the armored plating was as nice to touch as the muscled back, so he didn’t shy away from anything else. The divide between metal and flesh wasn’t as distinct as he’d thought - the armor came up over some remaining skin, and if he pressed firmly, he could wriggle his fingers in and just brush something that felt like wiring. When he did, Genji went rigid in his arms. 

McCree hurriedly drew back his fingers, but Genji broke the kiss just enough to say, “Feels strange - but don’t stop.” He pressed back into McCree’s hand for emphasis.

They were close enough that watching Genji’s whole face was impossible, but McCree stared straight at Genji’s eyes as he stroked the wires again, deliberately as light as Genji’s fingers had been around his ankle. So he got a front row seat for the way Genji’s pupils rapidly expanded and his lids slipped lower over his eyes. That seemed like a pretty positive sign, and the way Genji dropped his head to rest against McCree’s shoulder to breathe a gasp that was almost a moan against his skin as he kept it up was another one. So McCree felt perfectly justified in searching out another seam in the plating with his free hand and stroking firmly there at the same time, looking for more of those reactions. 

Genji went almost limp in his arms, and the sound that he let out was definitely a moan this time. He leaned his full weight against McCree - not more than he could take, but definitely a burden, what with all the metal mixed with the lightweight polymers in his body. It did, however, press the ridged expanse of his synthetic abdominals right against McCree’s erection, and that and the breathy noises Genji was making were worth it. McCree felt light-headed with desire, although some of that was how much blood had rushed to his erection by now, he was sure. He ground his cock against Genji as he looked for more of those sensitive wires, and the slick slide of it made him realize how much his cock was weeping. 

Genji had gathered himself enough to mouth sloppily at McCree’s neck, kissing and licking until he found a spot that made McCree’s breath come deeper for a few moments. Then he latched on and sucked hard, keeping the skin in place with his teeth. The steady pressure, on the edge of pain, made McCree let out a sound that was perilously close to a moan himself. 

Just above Genji’s hip joint, where the cut v of his abdominals would have ended, there was a larger gap between plates - for better mobility, McCree assumed. There was just enough space for him to slide a finger a little further and find a wire that had enough give he could curl around it and tug. 

Genji let go of McCree’s neck, moaning again, loudly. The place where his mouth had been was wet and cool when Genji’s panting breaths blew against it, and it made McCree shiver. He smirked and pulled at the wire again. The reaction this time was just as satisfying; Genji almost cried out, and he shoved his hips against McCree’s thighs once, twice, three times before he stopped. The metal of his armor was getting warmer, especially the plate over his groin.

“Stop, stop,” he finally groaned, voice quite a bit rougher than it had been when they started. 

McCree reluctantly withdrew his hands, carefully so he didn’t snag anything. He wouldn't have minded staying there, making Genji make those noises, for quite some time. Those sounds just set him to burning inside. “Too much?” he asked.

Genji laughed. “No, I just want this to last until we get to a bed or until I get my cock out. Both, preferably.”

McCree just barely managed to hold back from saying ‘so you do have a dick, then.’ Commenting on someone’s equipment like that was a good way to get them to never let you near it again, and that wasn’t what he wanted. Honestly, he’d expected something closer to an omnic’s spread-out pleasure sensors, with the way Genji reacted to his wires being played with. But McCree was flexible; he’d be happy with whatever configuration his partner had if they were happy with his.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said instead.

Genji’s face suggested that he had some idea of what had just crossed McCree’s mind, and McCree felt about as rude as the clerk had kept themselves from being, earlier. But he must have been doing well enough up until then to be forgiven for it, because Genji’s hands turned him so his back was facing the edge of the king bed and gave him a playful push so he sprawled across it sideways. He went with it, spreading his legs and drawing one knee up until he was in a playful-seductive pose. 

“Like what ya see?” he asked, hamming up his accent. 

Genji smirked but didn't answer, looking down at the plate over his groin instead. After a moment’s fumbling, it came free, and he breathed an audible sigh of relief as he set it aside. 

McCree could see why. While Genji's cock wasn't flushed dark red like his own, the tip still leaked fluid, and he was hard enough the synthetic foreskin had pulled back from the head. McCree, cut himself, itched to play with it. The most attention-grabbing thing, however, were the two rows of six round lights, set in what looked like metal beads, marching up the underside of his cock. Currently, they were flashing a slow pattern in red. 

“You got yourself a light-up dick,” McCree said flatly, trying not to laugh. 

Genji shrugged, still smirking. “It was the least the doctor could do for me, after she gave me a replacement almost two centimeters shorter than my original.”

It still looked just fine to McCree - average, not too big, would fit well wherever he felt like putting it. But you never could tell how a man would react to talk about his dick, so he said instead, “Come over here and let me put my hands all over it.”

Genji did, with a speed that was frankly gratifying. He pulled on McCree until they both ended up situated right way round on the bed, kissing and grinding. McCree did get his hands on Genji's cock, and it felt as nice as it looked. Not quite the same as flesh and blood - wasn't much you could do about not having pores or sweat glands - but warm and smooth in his palm nonetheless. Playing with the foreskin got him a breathy sigh and an impatient wriggle, and tweaking one of the lights like he would a piercing on another partner got him Genji’s hips twitching helplessly. McCree stroked Genji’s cock up and down, making sure the tip of his thumb hit every light he could, and took advantage of Genji's distraction to roll him over onto his back. 

He sat back on Genji's thighs, close enough their dicks could brush if he leaned in. He was interested in more than grinding right now, though. He wanted to see if he could get the flush on Genji's cheeks to creep down to his neck and chest if he worked at it. And McCree was dedicated when he put his mind to something. 

He started with Genji's chest, the flesh and the metal parts. It was satisfying to finally get his hands on it, though playing with Genji's nipple didn't get him much of a reaction, just a soft sigh. Slightly disappointing. The way the seam between his shoulder and chest, wider like the ones on his hips, got him Genji pushing into his touch more than made up for it. McCree’s pulse thundered in his ears. 

Genji’s stomach was mostly polymer, no seams or plating, but McCree still ran his hands over it, just to feel it warm and moving beneath him. It moved faster as he got closer to Genji’s hips, but he just gave the base of his cock a quick, friendly stroke before moving back to his sides. Genji gave him quite the _un_ friendly look, but McCree ignored it. Genji’s flush had started to spread down his neck, and that's what he was really looking for. 

He could feel the hot flush of arousal on his own skin as he touched Genji. The seams down Genji’s sides were smaller and less pliable - probably to protect his remaining organs. But it did mean that McCree couldn't wriggle his fingers in there, just stroke up and down and hope to hit a wire closer to the surface. It was a tease, to be sure, but they'd been teasing each other all day. Why stop now? 

When Genji’s squirming started to get an impatient quality to it, McCree sat back, putting his whole weight against Genji's knees. It took a moment for his partner to recognize the wordless reprimand, but when he did he stilled. As much as he could, anyway. His chest was heaving, his face was red, and the synthetic skin above his dick was twitching abortively. 

“Somethin’ to say?” McCree asked, smirking. 

“Just want you to - what was it you said? _Get a move on_ ,” Genji returned. He was trying to glare, but he looked too blissed out for the expression to be effective. 

Still, McCree thought he'd messed with the man enough. He slid his hands down to Genji’s hips and closed one around his cock.

He set a steady pace and marveled at the feat of medical engineering in his hand. It even twitched like a flesh cock when he did something that felt particularly nice, like sliding the foreskin back and forth over the head. It was firm and warm, and handling it was getting him worked up as hell.

“Next time,” he said, squeezing experimentally at the head and enjoying the way it made Genji’s breath catch, “I want this inside me.”

“Next time?” Genji gasped, voice gratifyingly unsteady as his hips jerked under McCree. “Why not now?”

“Don't think you got the patience to make it good right now. I sure as hell don't.” The thought made him burn, made his cock twitch, but it also made him aware of how much he ached for more stimulation than Genji's leg pressing up behind his balls - probably accidentally, if the glancing pleasure as he moved was anything to go by. 

“Ah! You may be right,” Genji moaned. By the way his hips were twitching faster, he was close. 

“I know I'm right, “McCree said, smirking at him. “Now hold as still as you can.” With that, he bent down, kissing at the front of the seam just above the cock he was stroking, the one he'd messed with earlier. Genji had gone still, though at the sensation of McCree’s mouth he whimpered. McCree had never stopped moving his hand, and as he twisted at the top, he slid his tongue into the groove and licked at the bundle of wires there. 

The effect was immediate. Genji wailed, a sound in a range McCree had never heard from him, and his arms and shoulders thrashed. He kept his hips still, though, clearly aware of the damage he could do. As thanks, McCree gave two more long licks, covering as much ground as he could, to the wires. They tasted vaguely of metal and plastic, but it was worth it for the way Genji’s cock twitched in his hand. He wished, vaguely, that he could take the wires between his teeth. But apparently the grip on his cock and the stimulation from McCree’s mouth was too much for Genji, because he was coming hard after just a few more strokes.

It was a long one, and McCree sat up fast to watch the end of it, stroking Genji through it as he spurted into his palm. Genji's face was contorted, and the flush extended almost down to his remaining nipple. McCree was glad he'd never looked this breathtaking while they sparred, or he would have never gotten any training done. As it was, he'd have to be real careful not to think of this moment the next time they grappled together. 

Genji’s cock slowly softened in his hand, and McCree let go, not wanting oversensitivity to creep into pain. The slick lubricant in his hand, not the same as the spunk produced by flesh testicles but just as gratifying as evidence of his partner’s pleasure, made his own cock throb insistently. His arousal was now almost painful, without the pleasure of working Genji up to focus on. He leaned into a kiss to distract himself, but sloppy as Genji's technique was right after coming, it wasn't much of one. McCree found his own hips hard to still, thrusting against the smooth silicone next to Genji's slick cock. He couldn't help himself. Not much was hotter than getting his partner loose and blissful with orgasm.

After a moment, Genji gathered himself enough to reach down and stroke McCree’s cock in his flesh hand as he moved. McCree groaned, low in his throat, as Genji's fingers began to move on him confidently.

Genji made an interesting sound after a few strokes, propping himself up on his metal elbow so he could look down where their bodies met. He shifted his hand a little, and McCree realized he was staring at his cock. After all this, something as simple as Genji's frank appraisal shouldn't make him flush, but the appreciative look in his partner’s eyes was pretty damn nice. Not as nice as the sword calluses making friends with the head of his dick, but warming nonetheless. 

“I was distracted, before,” Genji said as he stroked, “but now that I have the chance to look properly, your cock is very nice, Jesse.”

McCree gasped as Genji tried the same twist at the head that McCree had used on him. “I'm - pretty fond of it myself,” he managed. 

Genji looked back up at him. “I mean it. A nice weight, a good girth.” He smirked at McCree, clearly enjoying making him come undone. “I want it in my mouth.”

McCree’s hips stuttered in their steady roll against Genji. “Was that a question?” he sputtered. “Yeah, yes, of course.” The slick heat of Genji’s mouth, the slide of his tongue - suddenly that was all McCree wanted. It wouldn't last long, probably, but Genji could see that. McCree wasn't ashamed, not after the way he'd made Genji fall apart. 

Genji stopped stroking him, but instead of flipping them over like McCree expected, he slid a little further up the bed and propped his head up with another pillow. “Come on, then,” he said, and patted his chest. “I want to play with your ass while I suck you. That is, as long as you have no objections.”

“None at all,” McCree said, voice hoarse, and scrambled forward ungracefully until his thighs were bracketing Genji’s face. His knees were bent slightly uncomfortably under Genji’s shoulders, but with Genji's warm breath so close to his cock, he couldn't care less. He wanted to shove his cock into Genji’s face, smear him all over with the precome leaking from his dick, but he contented himself with sliding forward just enough that the head rested on Genji's lips.

Genji laughed, just on this side of mean. “Eager?” he asked, hands coming up to slide onto McCree’s ass, leaving his nerve endings alight in their wake.

“I ain't the one who's had their mind blown already,” McCree shot back. 

“Let's change that, then,” Genji said, and opened his mouth. 

He didn't start out with teasing licks, like McCree half-expected. Clearly, he thought McCree had waited long enough, because he leaned forward and sucked in the head from the start. 

McCree almost let his head fall back, except that would mean looking away from what Genji was doing to him, and he didn't want that. It was almost as good as the warm, wet suction on his cock, and that was plenty good as it was. Genji’s tongue was just as agile on his dick as it had been on his mouth, and McCree had to stop himself from jerking forward, trying to get more. 

One of Genji’s hands moved to his hip, wordlessly encouraging him to do just that. The other one slid down his crack to rub circles around his hole, and after that McCree couldn't help himself. 

He shoved his cock in between Genji’s lips, harder than he meant to. He stopped just short of hitting his throat, but he was close enough now the sweat was pouring down his back and his hole was fluttering. It meant that Genji's fingers - the flesh ones, he was vaguely disappointed to realize - could slide into him, just a little, and the sensation made him groan. He was thrusting faster with it, and Genji just laid there and took it. More than took it. He sucked McCree industriously, teasing him with his tongue as much as he could and encouraging him forward as he played with McCree’s rim. 

McCree could hear his own loud, panting breaths filling the space between them as he hunched over, his heart slamming against his ribs. As turned on as he was, the sound meant almost nothing. Not much meant anything, as long as he could keep thrusting into that wet heat. He could feel a heat of his own curling up at the base of his stomach, fed by Genji’s fingers and his mouth.

“Gonna - gonna come,” he gasped out. Genji just pulled him forward more insistently. 

One, two, three more short, humping thrusts, and that was it, McCree was screwing his eyes shut and moaning his damn head off as he came into Genji’s mouth. He clutched at the headboard for balance as Genji sucked it all out of him, not letting up on dick or ass until McCree finally stilled. His dick made a pop as Genji leaned back and let it slide out, and McCree watched his throat in a daze as he swallowed ostentatiously. 

After a moment, he realized his come-drunk self was probably sweaty and heavy, and managed to coordinate his legs enough to allow him to roll clumsily off Genji and slide down the bed. Genji sat up, wiping his mouth, and headed straight for the mostly unfinished glasses of champagne on their hovertray. 

“Ugh, warm,” he said, when he picked the glass up, but he poured most of it into his mouth nonetheless. He swished it around for a moment, then went into the attached bathroom and spat like it was mouthwash instead of something that cost as much as McCree would have paid for groceries in six weeks. 

“If you want to come in my mouth again, you really must improve your diet,” he told McCree seriously from the bathroom doorway. McCree looked at him and started laughing, the deep belly laugh he didn't often indulge in. He couldn't help it. Genji, standing there with a stern expression like he was outlining battle plans, with his dick still out and his mouth probably tasting like McCree’s come under the expensive champagne, was just too funny a juxtaposition. 

As he laughed, Genji's expression changed, from seriousness to indignation, and then, finally, to a hesitant smile. “I was serious, you know,” he said as McCree wound down. 

“I know, but good luck with that, with our schedules and what the mess churns out at base,” McCree said. “Guess I'm givin’ up that privilege for a while.”

Genji came back over to the bed, pouring himself a fresh glass of champagne from the bottle on ice on the way. He lounged as he sipped at it, and McCree turned onto his side so he could keep an eye on Genji’s face. 

“You have a point,” his partner says. “Perhaps if you are very good, I'll let you sometime.”

McCree laughed again. “Fat chance of that, too.”

Genji grinned at him. “Stop being correct so much, it's an irritating habit. Very bad, then.”

“That's well within my skill set,” McCree told him. He was finally getting enough brain function back to sit up, and when he did he snorted. They hadn't bothered to pull down the covers of the bed, and while Genji had ensured there weren't any come stains on the duvet - whatever he came was closer to lubricant, as McCree’s messy hand could attest - it was still crumpled and stained with sweat here and there. 

“Much better place to lay low than I was expectin’,” he said. “Hope the housekeepers make good money. We're gonna leave them quite the mess.”

“They do - or they'd better, with what I'm paying,” Genji said. “Don't expect treatment like this all the time, Jesse. This was just to get you into bed.” He smirked. 

“Aw, honey,” McCree drawled, accent exaggerated. “All this for little ole me? You didn't have to. I'm easy.”

“I'm not,” Genji sniffed. “Maybe I need a nice vacation and some wine to give myself up to you, Jesse McCree. Did you think of that?”

“You do whatever you need to, darlin’, seein’ as you're payin’ for it,” McCree said. “Still, though. Mission went well. Had some nice food, nice booze, nice clothes, nice digs. Pretty thing in my bed.” He gave Genji an obvious up-and-down, smirking when it made his partner laugh. “Nice way to spend the next couple of days.”

“I agree,” Genji said, and set his glass down to pull McCree into a champagne-flavored kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to [TwoBrokenMirrors](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoBrokenMirrors/pseuds/TwoBrokenMirrors), who let me ask a million inane questions about London during the process of writing this fic. Thanks also to everyone in my discord server for their unfailing encouragement, and everyone who reblogged the [original tumblr post](http://sirsparklepants.tumblr.com/post/159810895629/this-tumblr-post-is-hilarious-and-accurate-and-it) liking my idea! This wouldn't have happened without y'all. 
> 
> This fic was originally intended to be around 6k words. As you can tell by the word count, it ballooned, because I wanted to shove more things I enjoy in it, and also because I'm incapable of not adding in worldbuilding even when it's not my world.
> 
> I very carefully did not name any of the businesses in this fic, but they do have some roots in modern London. The clothing shop takes some inspiration from real-life Saville Row, though none of the shops there would ever stoop to anything off the rack. The restaurant takes inspiration from Awesome Thai, which I picked because it was the highest rated Thai restaurant in London on Trip Advisor and had plenty of pictures of food, which was important to me because every place plates differently. The hotel is mostly based on the Milestone Hotel, which I liked the look of the most of all the really expensive boutique hotels in London and which also has a pool and spa. Sabrage is actually offered at that hotel, and in fact is how I found out it existed. It looks [like this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cupnnTpHOGA).
> 
> The clerk is nonbinary, the tailor and his assistant are men, and the manager of the store and the hotel's receptionist are women . Genji and McCree can tell because I figure that by sixty years from now, people in customer service will wear some indication of their pronouns on their work clothes. I didn't say anything about that in the story because it was irrelevant to the larger work and I didn't want to design that system. It's probably similar to how professional wear is currently gendered, anyway - a social cue rather than pins or something like that. 
> 
> Several of my Blackwatch Genji headcanons informed this fic - some of them I gathered together in [this tumblr post](http://sirsparklepants.tumblr.com/post/160947509979/some-blackwatch-genji-headcanons). The other one of some relevance is that I headcanon the Shimadas as coming from the Keihanshin Metropolitan Area of Japan for several reasons (it's the largest population area after the greater Tokyo area so there's plenty of places to do business; it's close to ports, very important with weapons trafficking; it includes several structures I believe Hanamura was inspired by; there's enough space for Shimada castle to exist) which has a humid subtropical climate. So early May in London would be chilly to Genji after the sun went down. 
> 
> There are a couple of silly outtakes to this story I owe my friends - namely "secret agents trying badly to cover up injuries on public transport" and a My Immortal style parody of the dressing-up scenes. When I get around to that, they'll probably show up as a second story in a series attached to this one.


End file.
